


A Party in Orlais

by secretbraintwin



Series: Submission [2]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Bondage, Costumes, Enthusiastic Consent, Explicit Consent, F/M, Full Consent, Gangbang, Group Sex, M/M, Masks, Multi, Spitroasting, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-12
Updated: 2015-03-27
Packaged: 2018-02-25 04:05:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2607833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secretbraintwin/pseuds/secretbraintwin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>King Cousland hosts a party in Orlais. </p><p>The night's entertainment? A certain trussed up Antivan elf who couldn't be happier about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"A little tighter, if you please, my Warden."

Cousland gave him a fond smile and obliged. Since the loss of his arm, it had taken him some time to adjust to certain tasks, but this was one area that he figured out quite quickly. 

He could not be blamed for wanting to show off those particular skills, no? Among other things he'd be showing off tonight. 

"Better?" he asked, after the last leather band was pulled taught. 

Zevran strained against them and nodded, "Much."

"Good. The guests were invited to arrive two hours ago."

"And as everyone in Orlais prefers to be fashionably late to make an entrance, the lesser nobles should be here shortly."

"Exactly."

"Do I look under-dressed?" he teased.

Aedan swatted his bare ass, "You look better dressed in nothing but a feathered mask than I do in full regalia."

Of course, the mask in question was of Orlesian make--crow feathers and glittering black gemstones--and therefore cost more than most houses. The king's mask was even more expensive--no jewels, but exotic eagle feathers and lion fur. A reference to the griffons of old, making him look even more impressive than usual. 

"You remember the agreement, right?" the human continued. "I will be watching the whole time, and if--"

"If I dislike something that is being done to me, I snap my fingers and you snap their neck? Yes, I remember," he smiled. So protective. They had had group sex before, multiple times, but never quite like this. In fact, when Erlina had mentioned such parties, and he'd jokingly said he'd want to be in the center of one someday, he had expected the idea to be dismissed off-hand. Instead, the man had asked if this was a true desire of his, and when he'd said yes, set about arranging it immediately. "Thank you for this."

Cousland bent down to kiss the tip of his ear, whispering in Antivan, "I can deny you nothing."


	2. Chapter 2

This was Orlais, so going straight to the fun parts was against etiquette. First, the guests had to trickle in, be announced, get served wine and finger foods from the circling waiters, and generally schmooze. Strange, how even orgies had rules here. 

Though it did give him a chance to get well into his submissive mindset. And he had to admit, the way the guests (each one dressed more lavishly than the last) would gaze at him, circle him, reverently touch him as if he was a piece of art, wasn't bad, either. Zevran was never one to shy away from being the center of attention. 

"The waiter told me it tasted of ennui," Aedan said, holding out a piece of cheese for him. This was the first time in an hour he wasn't politely greeting someone. Did that mean everyone had arrived, finally? "What do you think, elf?"

He picked it up with his teeth and slowly chewed, considering. 

"Either it's a mistranslation, or everyone in this country is delusional, Master Cousland."

"Hmm...no, I brushed up on my Orlesian for the trip, so it's probably the latter."

"Probably," he smiled. "But then again, Master Cousland, all Fereldens seem delusional to me, as well."

"Is that so? In what way?"

"The ridiculous spoiling of your mabaris. You've dropped two _hors d'oeuvres_ for Cuddles for every one you've eaten."

"Hey, she _needs_ it. She's eating for two now, you know. Or, more likely, six or seven," the man gestured to a servant. "The chest, please."

"Ahhh, so now the fun truly begins?" 

He knew exactly which chest Aedan was referring to. And tradition dictated that the master of the house was to start and finish the festivities. Not that he was the _true_ master of the house. The real one was the Ferelden diplomat, an old friend of the Cousland family, who was off in Rivain and offered his home for the month. 

"Unless you wanted to wait, my beautiful toy?"

"Not at all, Master Cousland. As much as I enjoy the anticipation, I am eager to begin."

The partygoers started gathering around, now. Their conversations dwindled to a murmur. By the time the chest arrived, and the prince opened it, the great hall was silent.

The first thing he removed was a decorative candlestick, which he promptly lit and placed onto the center of Zevran's back. That way he could feel it as the heat began to build. 

He knew what the man was planning, there. But he also knew it would take some time to grow warm enough to work. And he went back to rifle through the chest once again. What else was going on in that wonderful, wicked mind? 

_The paddle._

"Try to keep still, now, elf," the man grinned. "Wouldn't want you to get burned."


	3. Chapter 3

Cousland was a master at using the paddle. He knew when to hit hard and when to tease. He knew exactly how to make Zevran beg and squirm. But the squirming part was not an option with that candle on his back, and he found himself struggling to stay still, lest he get burned.

And all the while, he played the audience. Getting them worked up, cheering and jeering. He was the object of a whole room's worth of lust. Not that that was unusual, of course, but he basked in it being so vocal.

His ass had gone from tender well into sore by the time he let up, the paddle's edge tracing along his back as the human crossed to his front. The crowd went quite, and the world shrunk to just him and his Warden. Aedan used the paddle to tilt up his chin, smirking at him, "You feel the candle getting warm? Do you think it's ready?"

"Yes, Master Cousland."

"Are _you_ ready?"

"Yes, Master Cousland."

"Do you like pain, elf?" he set down the paddle, and the warmth of the metal was gone from his back. 

Zevran shivered, "I do, Master Cousland."

The first drop hit, and now he did not have to hold back his writhing. 

"Yes, Master Cousland. Hurt me. Please, burn me," he pleaded as more wax fell. 

The prince slowly worked down from his shoulders to his tender ass, making him shout without restraint by the end. Much to the delight of the onlookers. 

Cousland set the candlestick down, announcing something in Orlesian. The only word he understood was the one for _pleasure_. 

"Master Cousland?" he asked, panting and overwhelmed.

Aedan licked up his good ear, whispering, "I'm going to fuck you now."

 

_((Sorry the update is so short. I haven't written since 2014 and I'm rusty.))_


	4. Chapter 4

Aedan returned to the chest, and pulled out an unassuming, but familiar vial. 

He automatically opened his mouth and tilted his head at the sight. They had a system, since his lover lost his arm. Zevran would tilt his head and hold the vial upright between his teeth, so that Cousland could pull out the cork. At least, during the times his own arms were incapacitated. As they so often were. 

His Master liked him nice and helpless. 

Once the human had the oil open, he dipped three fingers in, one by one, and left the vial in his mouth. In case he wanted to get more later, Zevran knew. They had spoken about this beforehand. Cousland could go for quick and rough, once in a while, but considering the rigors ahead of him, they both agreed it would be a good idea if he was thoroughly prepared. 

He was already hard from the expertly delivered attentions of his lover, so as soon as he felt a finger brush against his opening, he moaned _loudly_. 

"I'm not even inside of you yet," the man teased. He could hear his smile. "Do you really need this so badly?"

"Mmmhmm," he hummed in response. Soft chuckling resulted at that, and not just Cousland's, either. 

"Then I would be a cruel master to make you wait any longer."

A slap landed across his tender ass and he yelped, the crowd flat-out laughing, now. But his Warden made up for it by finally, if slowly, pressing a finger inside. It wasn't enough. Better, but not enough. 

If his mouth wasn't encumbered, he'd beg for more. As it was, he settled with the breathy whimpers he knew his man loved. 

"Needy little elf," Cousland said, easing a second one inside, and then a third. Scissoring, stretching, stroking against that lovely spot inside of him.


End file.
